


Don't Ruin The Surprise

by The_Knight_of_Flowers



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blood, Demon!AU, F/F, Gen, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Knight_of_Flowers/pseuds/The_Knight_of_Flowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing Sansa noticed was the blood. It was splattered across the room, staining everything with crimson splatters. Before she could release the scream bubbling in her throat, a small hand grabbed her from behind, smothering her cry with its palm. A familiar voice whispered in her ear, almost playfully. <br/>“Shh…. If you scream, you’ll ruin the surprise." </p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Ruin The Surprise

Sansa strode nervously to Joffrey’s chambers, flanked by two gold cloaks. What could he want with her so close to his wedding? Fear gnawed at her insides, despite her familiarity with the king’s cruelty. All too soon, she was climbing the stairs of the tower and the guards took their place by the door. Lowering her gaze to play the submissive captive as usual, Sansa entered the room.   
The first thing Sansa noticed was the blood. It was splattered across the room, staining everything with crimson dashes. Already it was darkening as it pooled across the floor. Splinters were scattered across the room, remnants of the shattered furniture skewed around the room. Before she could release the scream bubbling in her throat, a small hand grabbed her from behind, smothering her cry with its palm. A familiar voice whispered in her ear, almost playfully.   
“Shh…. If you scream, you’ll ruin the surprise."   
Sansa’s eyes widened in disbelief as the person spun her around to look her in the eye, hand still pressed against her mouth. Margaery smiled, a dark edge radiating from it.   
"Sweetling, if you promise not to scream, I’ll remove my hand. Okay?"   
Blinking back tears, the redhead nodded quickly. The Tyrell girl looked relieved, taking her hand off of Sansa’s lips before grasping the younger girl’s hands tightly. Her beaming, unsettling smile was still in place when Sansa finally managed to choke out a question.  
 “Wh-who are you?"   
If anything, the brunette’s smile grew wider, the strange playfulness still slipping into her voice as her grip tightened almost painfully.  
 “It’s me, Margaery. Who else could I be, little dove?"   
Despite herself and the tears she was still shedding, Sansa’s gaze hardened, her eyes turning into cutting shards of blue ice. Silently praying to the Warrior, she felt a surge of bravery, of the resistance that burned bright in her before this damn city broke her. In that moment, she was truly a direwolf.   
“Margaery would never do something like this; she’s far smarter than that. Who. Are. You?"   
The older girl let out a laugh, eyes closed and head upturned. When she opened her eyes again, the pupils were dilated and shading the entire eye as Margaery smirked. Sansa stood rigid and stoic, trying desperately not to show the terror coursing through her veins. “Oh, you’re a clever one. Brave too. And pretty to boot. I can see why the little rose has her eyes on you. Or had, I suppose… She would have died for you in a heartbeat, you know. But, well, with me inside her, she’ll kill for you."  
 Sansa backed away cautiously, her hands fumbling behind her to find something, anything, to keep the thing inside Margaery away from her. She meant to sound steady, but her voice wobbled horribly.   
“What do you want with her?"  
 Margaery’s brow furrowed in confusion, her eyes still monstrous. Sansa was shaking, with the Tyrell girl matching each of the taller girl’s steps with one of her own, keeping them at a constant distance. Margaery laughed again, this one light, yet biting. The northern girl flinched as the brunette surged forward suddenly, heading past her and towards the small end table; one of the few items in the room still blood free. She began to pour two cups of wine, chatting away as if copious amounts of blood and possession were commonplace in everyday life.  
 “Oh, I wanted nothing with her. She called for me. Well, actually, she was praying to the Father. You know, the usual; “end the war, keep the House Tyrell safe, give me the strength to protect those I love." Someone was listening this time. Unfortunately for her, it was me."  
She took a sip of wine, murmuring in approval and offering the second cup to Sansa who remained in the corner of the room, pressing herself into the wall as if trying to blend in and be free from this madness.   
"Hmm… Arbor gold. Joffrey was a miserable excuse for a human, but he had a fantastic taste in wine."   
Excitement rose in her tone as she practically flung the cups back on the table, the rich red liquid looking so much like blood as it dripped to the ground.   
“Oh yes! I’ve been meaning to show you something. I think you’ll really enjoy this! Margaery wanted to do this for you for quite sometime. Less mess of course, but I enjoy a bit of splatter." She latched onto Sansa’s arm in a vice-like grip, dragging her across the room and through the blood. The coppery smell invaded her nostrils, making the redhead almost retch as Margaery reached her free hand behind one of the many curtains draped along the walls. Sansa didn’t know what she was expecting; it certainly wasn’t this.   
“Don’t you like it? I thought it was quite fitting, seeing what he did to your father." Margaery beamed like a young lady showing off her first embroidery to her mother when she presented Joffrey’s head mounted on a makeshift spike crudely crafted from a leg of a chair. His face was a twisted mask of agony and terror; there was still a rag in his mouth from Margaery silencing him. She knew she should be relieved, but Sansa couldn’t help the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes. Eventually she broke away her gaze from the Lannister boy to look Margaery in her pitch black eyes. Her voice cracked in desperation.  
 “Please, just let her go now."   
Another laugh from the thing inside Margaery; cruel, mocking, bitter. She stroked Sansa’s cheek gently, a stark contrast of her chuckle. False sympathy practically dripped from her voice.    
"Aww, but that would never do. This mind, this body, is just what I need. So much pent up anger, such a sharp mind, and the influence she has here… I can do great things with Margaery, things that oaf of a father of hers could never imagine. And I don’t plan on ever giving her back, sweetling."  
 She couldn’t hold in her sobs anymore. Sansa’s body shook, wracked with her sobbing and collapsing to the bloody tiles of the floor as she mourned the stupid, selfish king who ruined her life and the stupid, caring girl who tried to fix it.


End file.
